


All Thumbs

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-11
Updated: 2006-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: How did Malcolm get the impression that Hoshi was not interested in him? (06/05/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Beta: Thanks to PJ again!  


* * *

Power. It's a wonderful thing.

I'd noticed that Malcolm was still watching me. He was supposed to be recalibrating his beloved phase cannons but he turned up just after shift started with some story about letting Taylor have more responsibility. Part of me believed him, the other, girly part of me whispered that he couldn't keep away from me. I spent a very pleasant five minutes imagining that.

But, in my defence, he did keep staring at me.

I turned, oh so casually, to talk to T'Pol, and just happened to notice out of the corner of my eye that he followed the movement. And followed me again as I turned back to my work.

Hmmm. Nice. A girl could get used to this.

I've never been such a focus of interest before. Well, not this level of interest anyway.

I was curious to see how far I could take the interest. So I turned, ever so slowly, winced, and mentioned a sore neck.

Then I—and I can't believe I actually did this on the bridge in front of the captain. Even now I don't know what possessed me.

Well, all right, I wanted Malcolm to react spectacularly.

I stretched my arm up to rub my neck. Unfortunately that involved sticking my chest out.

Almost—but not quite the reaction I was hoping for. Mind you, I'm not sure what kind of reaction I wanted. Maybe something along the lines of jumping across the bridge and flinging me across my console?

Yes, that could work.

So—I moaned. After all, stiff necks can be painful.

And react he did. I didn't know a grown man could whimper like that.

Oh, the joys of having exceptional hearing!

Then he had to do something with the cannon recalibrations and it was back to normal.

Still, a most successful morning. I was very pleased.

But then Trip said something to Malcolm on his way down to the armory. Poor Malcolm turned scarlet. Trip's been doing that lately. Annoying my Malcolm. Well, he's not going to get away with it. No-one annoys my Malcolm.

I, of course, can torture him. But that's different.

* * *

I never thought the mess hall—a very crowded mess hall, I should point out—could be the site of such passion.

Yes, passion.

We sat together at lunch again. We were talking about something—poetry, I think—when he ran his thumb over his lower lip.

Oh, God. Thwack. Instant lust.

Malcolm Reed, prepare to be boarded.

And he knew it, too. He was looking back at me in a way that made me—Well, I'm sure you don't want the details.

Lust and love over lunch. Sounds like the title of a bad novel. Starring the mysterious armory officer and the beautiful linguist. Oh yes, a surefire hit.

Then—

"Well, lookee here, is this a private starin' match or can anyone join in?"

Trip must die.

Although Malcolm's revenge was pretty good. Particularly as the Captain and T'Pol came in just as Chef dropped the tray of pastries.

But sometimes a girl has to take things into her own hands.

Speaking of which, have you noticed what glorious hands Malcolm has?

I bet he'd be good at—

Yes, well.

Back to work. Calm yourself, Hoshi.

* * *

He's done it again. Right in the middle of a briefing! The man shows no mercy whatsoever.

Trip and T'Pol were having their usual 'I'm right and you're wrong' illogical argument over at what point a year's service on Enterprise should be celebrated. Travis was ogling Ensign Parson as she bentover the nav console. I'm not sure what the captain was thinking. He was playing catch with Porthos.

And then, without a shred of warning, Malcolm rubs his lip again.

Oh no, did I moan out loud?

Cruelty, thy name is Malcolm.

I'd just got over the fantasies the mess hall incident had produced. I had spent a most enjoyable night examining them in detail and filing them away for future reference. Now my brain ran rapidly through several more interesting scenarios involving the briefing table.

Or maybe the Captain's chair?

Or the turbolift.

Or—

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't quite catch that lip. Thumb. Um—that—what you said. Sorry."

Well done, Hoshi. No-one would guess your mind had been wandering. Why don't you blush as well while you're at it?

Right on cue, I could feel my face turning scarlet.

And then Malcolm rubbed that thumb along the edge of the table.

There is no hope for me.

* * *

Up until now I've prided myself that the mind was more important than the physical appearance. Admittedly, none of my previous boyfriends were particularly ugly, but I thought myself morally and intellectually above those girls who went by appearance alone.

What a difference a Malcolm makes.

I was attracted to his mind. It was so—textured. The surface, all spit-and-polish, a caricature of an old-fashioned officer. But underneath, he was so complex and so very controlled. It was this complexity and control which I wanted to understand and explore.

Then I noticed his body.

Then I noticed him noticing my body.

And for the first time in my life I understood what all those bimbos at school were on about.

Fun. Power. Anticipation. Teasing.

I, Hoshi Sato, could tease with the best of them.

I was so thrilled with that knowledge that I spun around my cabin, my arms out, embracing the whole galaxy.

Malcolm Reed was mine.

And what fun I was going to have with him.

* * *

Vulcan poetry?

Trip?

Hidden under three layers of engineering blueprints on his desk.

Not that I was snooping, mind you. I was looking for his report on the upgrade to the UT and it just happened to be on his very messy desk. It wasn't my fault that I had to move a lot of reports to find what I wanted, was it?

Exactly. I knew you'd understand.

He denied it, of course. Said he wanted to try and get to know more about Vulcans, overcome his prejudices, have something to talk about with T'Pol.

The denial would have sounded a lot better if he hadn't used such a defensive tone.

Of course, I agreed, in my sweetest big sister voice.

And it worked beautifully. He muttered something under his breath and snatched the book back.

Trip Tucker, you don't stand a chance.

With either of the senior women on this ship.

* * *

This waiting period is so delicious. Dancing around each other, knowing what the inevitable outcome is going to be but enjoying the process.

Well, I know what the inevitable outcome is going to be. And after this afternoon on the bridge I'm pretty sure Malcolm does too.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Malcolm was absorbed in some tests. And after the phase cannon muck up two days ago I was only going to do this if he couldn't do any damage to anything.

Time for Hoshi the Temptress part 2. In which our heroine casually stands up, stretches slooowly—yes, that caught our hero's eye—and walks over to the science station. Then in for the kill. I hadn't watched Travis watching Ensign Parsons for nothing.

Yes, our heroine leaned over the science station to talk to T'Pol. Way over the science station.

When I turned around Malcolm was looking at me as if I was a juicy bone and he was a starving dog.

Well, grrr!

I smiled at him—okay, it was probably a leer but it had a nice effect.

Malcolm leered back.

Oh, yeah. Hoshi the Temptress shows no mercy!

Then a strange sound to my right caught my attention. Jon was looking at me in the same way dad did when I wore my first grown-up low-cut dress.

A mixture of pride, apprehension and utter bewilderment.

Don't worry Jon. Hoshi knows exactly what she's doing!

Tempting Malcolm, that's what she's doing.

And doesn't she do it well?

* * *

Phaser practice tonight.

Time to bring out the big guns. We've eaten three lunches, four breakfasts and two dinners together and he hasn't made a move yet.

Well, that's going to change.

Liz Cutler has lent me her slay-em-dead gym top. Red. Shows just a hint of stomach but if you reach up it has an unfortunate habit of going with you.

How sad. I think my hair may give me a lot of trouble tonight.

* * *

Malcolm had brought out the big guns as well.

And I don't mean the Mark 33s.

He was all in black. Lean and wiry and gorgeous and lickable.

Did I say lickable?

Oh well, he was. And with luck, I would be—

Down, Hoshi.

He was doing some sort of breathing exercise. I didn't want to startle him so I waited until he'd finished to say hello.

Then—whoops, my hair needed adjusting.

Top, do your thing.

And it did. I thought he was going to pass out from blood loss to the brain.

Nice to know the overwhelming lust isn't all on one side. Very nice indeed.

I must remember to thank Liz in the morning.

He seemed to shake himself, take several more deep breaths.

Then he uttered the most lyrical words I have ever heard:

"Hoshi, there's that film night next Wednesday—I was wondering—"

Yes? You were wondering what?

But the poor darling just froze.

I don't know how long we looked at each other. I get such a feeling of vertigo looking into his eyes; as if the whole universe is spinning around us and we're the still centre.

So I helped out my still centre. After all, I'm a kind girl and he was getting a panicky look in his eye.

"Would I like to go with you?"

He made a strangled sound that I assumed was a yes. Isn't it strange that his accent can make even a grunt sound romantic?

I said I'd love to.

Oh boy, there's the universe spinning again.

"Din—dinner—"

Dinner as well. Wow.

I have the power. I have the power to reduce this competent, professional, calm man to absolute primal functions.

Oh yeah.

Primal. Very primal.

Dinner and a date, huh?

Let me tell you, Malcolm Reed. Touch that lip of yours with your thumb on Wednesday and you'd better be ready. There's one linguist on this ship who's going to give you—

Yes. Well.

Back to phaser practice.

* * *

God help me. Malcolm with guns.

Big, long guns.

And he uses his thumb to adjust the setting.

Whimper.


End file.
